Nine Times Out of Ten
by clairemarie91
Summary: Nine times out of ten, Ada Shelby hates how overprotective her brothers can be. But that tenth time is a different story.


Nine times out of ten, Ada hated how overprotective her brothers could be.

When she was eight, Tommy made her stay home while nine-year-old John got to bash around the neighborhood with his friends.

When she was ten, a boy kissed her behind the shed at the schoolyard. John found out and punched him in the mouth.

When she was thirteen, she'd spent a whole three shillings on her first tube of lipstick, which Arthur had found and thrown in the canal, declaring that no sister of his would be "strutting around like a strumpet," which had made her laugh almost as much as it'd made her angry. She demanded her three shillings back, which he'd given after she threatened to tell Polly about the girl he'd been seeing in secret.

At fifteen she'd had her first real beau. After two weeks he complained that he was seeing Tommy and Freddie Thorne at every corner, looking menacing, and he jilted her for Sarah Monroe.

That same year, Arthur caught her drinking whiskey and sold her out to Polly without a second thought. Pol made her do the laundry for a week.

Four separate times, even after her eighteenth birthday, she'd been forced to leave bars because her brothers didn't like the looks of some man she was flirting with it. She counted each instance and held it against them bitterly. Yes, nine times out of ten, she couldn't stand the way they treated her, no matter how they protested that it was out of care and love.

For this reason, she was surprised by the way she missed them when they were gone.

She had the freedom to see whomever she wished (though the men the war had left behind in Small Heath were far from satisfactory), do what she wished (though there wasn't much to do with all the men gone), and behave however she wished (though with all the work there wasn't much time to behave badly). Sometimes, in her darkest heart, she wondered if she had somehow sent them away with all her resentfulness. If one of them had been hurt, or worse, she would have blamed herself for it, as ridiculous as that might have been.

Fortunately, it didn't happen. They were home, her boys were home, all three of them in one piece and she couldn't have been more elated.

When she saw them stepping off the train at the station, she became dizzy, as though she were dreaming and might open her eyes at any moment. She clenched her teeth and her fists, praying that this was real, praying that they were really back for good.

"Ada?" Arthur called.

Ada smiled, but it was more of a sob as she waved him over, John and Tommy looking up at her with wide eyes.

She threw her arms around each of them in turn, smelling the still-warm wool of their coats and trying not to cringe at the thinness of their frames. Arthur was his usual boisterous self, lifting her up and spinning her around so that everyone in the station turned to stare. John blushed furiously, muttering something about sentimentality as she kissed him on the cheek. Tommy just smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Ada squeezed him extra tight.

"I was so worried about you, Tom," she whispered.

"We're home now, Ada," he replied, and her eyes filled up with tears. The crack that had been driven through her heart by their leaving was still there, would still ache for years to come, but she could feel it starting to heal with her brother in her arms.

They had barely put their bags down when she insisted on ushering them out to the Garrison to celebrate. They seemed grateful - home was quiet, and empty. Silence filled the room like radio static the moment the boys entered, and it would be better to go somewhere with background music.

The Garrison was lively indeed. With so many of the boys back, everyone seemed to be in a celebratory mood. Mixed in with the joy though, there was a certain tautness, the withheld tension that everyone had been hoarding released into the air. Ada tried to ignore it as she downed one drink, then another. The boys were talking to some friends, and she'd been left alone at the bar. Watching them carefully, lest they disappear on her again, she slammed her empty glass down on the table louder than she'd meant to.

"Harry, get this lovely lady another drink on me, will you?" a familiar voice said from behind her.

Ada's heart stopped, and she gripped the empty glass until her knuckles were white.

Then, she turned.

"Freddie," she breathed.

His still-handsome face spread into a grin, and it took all of Ada's self-control not to tackle him to the ground, keeping him from ever leaving Small Heath again.

"Ada Shelby," he replied, the grin on his face leaking into his voice. "You've gotten even more beautiful than the last time I was here."

Ada flushed and smiled down at the ground, which was cluttered with bottle tops, corks, and peanut shells. When she had steadied herself enough to look back up at him, she said, "I'm glad to see you home safe."

"You married yet?" he asked, glancing down at her ring finger with a teasing smirk.

"No," Ada said, blushing even harder. "They shipped all the good men to France."

"Lucky for me," Freddie replied.

Harry dropped off Ada's third drink, and Freddie raised his half-full one to her in a toast. "To home," he said.

"To Small Heath," she replied, clinking her glass against his. "To the future."

"The future." Freddie's lips turned up in the corner as he swallowed his whiskey. "What does Ada Shelby see in her future?"

"Another drink," Ada said with a chuckle, matching his wry expression.

"As her highness commands," Freddie said, eyes twinkling with mischief. Before he could turn to Harry again, something else drew his attention.

"Freddie!" Arthur barked from across the room. "Come and say hello to Aunt Pol, eh? She doesn't believe that skeleton wearing your suit is actually you."

Freddie looked to Ada with amusement. "I'll be back," he said.

"Take your time," said Ada, already feeling the emptiness of his absence.

It was only moments before that emptiness was filled, but not with Freddie's warm familiarity. Instead, a drunken soldier stood next to her, reeking of whiskey and sweating from his hairline. "Hey gorgeous," he said. "Don't suppose you've got a kiss for a Tommy just home from war?"

Ada wrinkled her nose. "Sorry," she replied. "I'm spoken for."

"He wouldn't have to know about one kiss, love," the man entreated, leaning in closer to her. She could see every gaping, dirty pore on his bulbous nose, and she felt bile rising in her throat.

"Really," Ada insisted. "He's here right now."

"Why don't you point him out to me then," the man said, looking out at the crowd of men all noisily celebrating.

"That one," Ada said, pointing to Freddie, who was engaged in what seemed to be a deeply engaging conversation with Polly. She wished he would look over, prayed that he would catch her eye, but he didn't - few men were brave enough to look away from Polly when she demanded attention.

"That's funny," the man said. "I was in Freddie's outfit and he never mentioned a girl back at home."

"He's very private," Ada replied, easing herself out of the barstool to better get away from the man.

"I don't like being lied to very much, Miss," the man said, backing her against the bar. His breath was hot and sour, and Ada couldn't control the cringe that contorted her face.

He was tall, and Ada considered that maybe, depending on how drunk he was, she could duck under his arm and make a break for it. But he was leaning so close to her that she didn't know if she could maneuver it. Should she yell? Her heart began to pound.

Just as she took in a deep breath to shout, someone gripped the man's shoulder, whipping him around and away from Ada. She could breathe again.

"The fuck are you on about threatening my sister?" John demanded in a low voice, his face so close to the man's that his ever-present toothpick almost scraped his nose.

"I didn't threaten nobody," the man protested. "We were having a conversation. Right?"

Ada smoothed her dress and looked the man squarely in the eye, her blue eyes meeting his dark beady ones. "He was being a pig, John," she said flippantly. "Show him what happens."

Ada slid past him and over to Aunt Polly without looking back, the sound of bone striking flesh bursting over the loud hum of the pub.

Nine times out of ten, she hated how overprotective her brothers could be. But the tenth time, she wouldn't have had them any other way.


End file.
